


Should Something Have Happened

by GoldenAurora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, he won't admit he loves her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenAurora/pseuds/GoldenAurora
Summary: The night Minerva was injured in OotP from Severus' point of view.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally decided to cross-post some of my stuff from FFN, username over there was Shadowed Heart. This was written shortly after Order of the Phoenix was released. Constructive criticism always welcome!

Out of doors, a crisp clear night enveloped the grounds of Hogwarts, bathing the castle in the soft, shimmering light of the moon. It was by this light filtering in through the library windows that the irate professor of Potions stalked erratically from shelf to shelf, randomly pulling book after book down from its place.

Severus Snape's manic search appeared to be in vain, however, as each heavy tome was forcibly and disgustedly returned to its casing nearly as soon as it was tugged free and leafed hastily through. Not until a large stack of weathered parchment fell from a top shelf did he seem to wake from his frenzied state; gazing about he grimaced at the mess of scattered papers, disheveled and uneven rows, and piles of books. Come morning, he could without a doubt expect a stern lecture and a boxing of the ears to ensure proper library etiquette in future from Madam Pince, whom he'd assured he would lock up securely after completing his research.

Leaning dejectedly against a table, he drummed his fingers against its surface and sighed in defeat. Had he found the text he needed, his harried hour of rummaging would have been worthwhile. Motivated by the mischievousness of it all, he'd been sorely tempted to stay up all night concocting the brew, it's only for the amusement of seeing Minerva's face come morning when their "Headmistress" excused herself from breakfast in a massive fit of retching.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued to wonder at the fact that it had been the stoic, ever do-right head of Gryffindor who had so nonchalantly hatched the plot to temporarily poison Dolores Umbridge. How the woman could possess such a ruthless, cunning nature and yet avoided being sorted into Slytherin was beyond him; after all these years, she still had presence enough to catch him off his guard and shock the hell out of him. Recalling how he had nearly spit his whiskey halfway across the staff room when she'd so roguishly suggested it, Severus allowed himself a small grin in the darkness of the library. Even he had to tip his hat to the old girl and concede that giving Umbridge a very particular case of gastroenteritis had been a stroke of pure genius that was not entirely all that unbecoming.

Cloaked as he was by visions of scheming against Dumbledore's less than able successor, it took a moment before the shouts and wild howling reached his ears. Brows knitted together in consternation, Severus crossed his arms and slid away from the table to approach the windows. Peering out over the school property at the scene below, all light-hearted mischief fled immediately from his mind.

Slanted down across the dark grounds and silhouetted by the light pouring from the cabin, Severus could make out the shape of several figures surrounding the considerably larger form of the Hogwarts groundskeeper and his boarhound. A low growl of outrage rose from his throat when he saw the unmistakable strings of red light shoot from each wand, and he curled his fingers into fists. How dare that vulgar woman take such actions as to order an outright attack on a trusted member of the staff!

Glaring down at the attack, one of the fiery stunners meant for Hagrid was intercepted by Fang, and he watched as the half-giant swung a huge meaty hand at one of his assailants. The wizard went sailing across the lawn and, Severus was unashamedly glad to see, did not immediately get back up. He scoffed in contempt; it was their own fault, anyway, if they'd thought they could take the tremendous man down with naught but a few stunning spells.

Without warning, a pool of rich golden light illuminated a square of dark lawn directly below, and yet another figure appeared from within before darting away towards the scene of bedlam. He could only hope that Umbridge hadn't planned on reinforcement, but then, leaning forward slightly to squint through the inky night, he quickly realized how intimately in-tune he was with the movements of the figure. Leaning even further toward the glass pane and resting a hand on the sill, his expression softened with dawning realization.

"Leave him alone! Alone, I say!"

The voice was far away and tinny, laced with unfathomable fury, but there was no mistaking it. Both hands gripping the sill and nose practically pressed against the glass, Severus watched through uneasy eagle eyes as Minerva hurtled recklessly across the dewy grass. He felt the strong urge to barrel heedlessly after her, to force her back to the castle by any means if necessary, but before he could turn, he knew. He knew and felt the realization of what was happening hit him full-force; horrified beyond all measure and powerless to do anything, he stood rooted to his spot in the library and watched the scene play before his eyes.

She was halfway across the grounds when the blazes of red light turned to her in rapid succession. Pupils dilating, Severus shook his head slightly, silently demanding the bearers of those cursed wands not to take such a drastic course of action. But in an instant the beams collided and she was lifted several feet in the air. She hung suspended and illuminated by an eery glow as red as fresh blood, and though her back was to him, he could see her face plan as day in his minds' eye and imagined she must be wearing an expression of shock mingled with the ever-dangerous furor of her Gryffindor nature.

When she was thrown forcefully to the ground like a discarded rag doll, Severus felt the breath explode from his body as though he too had been slammed backwards. So intent was he in waiting for her to rise that he took no notice of the giant hybrid fleeing into the black forest with an unconscious Fang draped about his shoulders, nor did he notice the group of wizards milling about before the groundskeeper' home, unsure of what their next move should be.

"Get up," he rasped, finding his mouth gone suddenly dry and his tongue abnormally thick. "Get _up_!"

It became a pleading demand, an insistent and direct order, and the longer she took in complying, the deeper became the dreadful ache gnawing at his insides. He was forgetting to breathe and it was making him dizzy. Inhaling deeply, he raised a tight fist and pounded on the window. The ache was overwhelming him, smothering him in its icy clutches, and he continued to pound until the glass splintered.

"Goddamn you, get the hell up!"

Panting heavily, Severus leaned his forehead against the frame and laid his palm flat against the cool glass. His voice was infinitely quieter and cracking when he spoke again.

"Get up. Please, Minerva, just get up."

Many long moments passed as he fought to regulate his breathing and the shaking that was controlling his limbs. His eyes burned and his pulse pounded frantically as the numbing sensation of shock swept over him. Unable to force himself to move, he clenched his eyes tightly over the threatening tears, vaguely surprised by their presence. If he could only rid his mind of the fog quickly infiltrating it, or overcome the thunderous rushing in his ears, he thought it possible that he might be able to wake from this nightmare to find nothing had happened and all was as it ought to be.

When Severus opened his eyes again, he was not met with the dark velvety folds of his canopy bed curtains; instead he was greeted by the glow of several lights, and though they were not the harsh red stunners used prior to these warm yellow twinkles, he knew he had not been hallucinating. While he could no longer make out her form through the dark night, instinct told him that Minerva McGonagall still lay crumpled and motionless where she had fallen.

Blinking through the black haze, the soft shining wand lights had begun to move across the grounds. Apparently Umbridge and her motley crew were making their way back to the castle. He watched the flashes moving steadily closer in short swinging arcs, all the while feeling as though he had been placed in a full body bind, when suddenly it occurred to him that they would shortly pass the place where his rival Head of House surely remained. With a gut-wrenching twist the thought that Dolores Umbridge would revel in the disposing of one of Dumbledore's top supporters entered unbidden into his mind and succeeded in breaking him free from his stupor.

Fighting against a sudden wave of panicked nausea, Severus shoved aside all thought and emotion and turned swiftly on his heel. Desperate now to stop any possible wrongdoings, he took flight and was gone from the library in a swirl of black robes.

It took him just under two minutes to reach her side. The others took three.

Later he would be glad that he'd had that extra minute to compose himself, for one look at his colleague's lifeless body was all it took to feel the vice tighten inexorably across his chest and to allow the sour taste of bile to leap unpleasantly to the back of his throat. She was sprawled haphazardly across the lawn, the front of her robes tattered apart and charred. Noting with trepidation the sickeningly sweet smell of singed flesh lingering in the air, he raised his wand a bit higher and was able to discern that the stunners had left her torso badly burned.

Suppressing the urge to vomit, Severus fell to his knees on the moist ground beside Minerva and grasped her wrist, testing for a pulse. Just as he was beginning to lose hope, a faint rhythm fluttered beneath his fingertips; this gave him a moment of relief, and he released the anxious breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. She shivered slightly in her unconscious state, and he hastily removed his cloak and slid it over her quiescent frame, as much to keep her warm as to aid in the preservation of her dignity and sense of decorum.

No sooner had he done so, however, than did the imperious voice of Dolores Umbridge reach his ears. "Well Snape, is she alive?"

The tone of her voice made the answer she was hoping for all too obvious, and the professor felt a sudden surge of hatred. Nevertheless, he schooled his face into what he hoped was a mask of indifference and lifted his stony eyes to lock with hers, but his response was interrupted by the arrival of Professors Flitwick and Sprout.

"My word, what on earth happened?" Sprout exclaimed, eyes wide and clutching her heart in dismay. "I ran into Professor Tofty on my way out of the staff room, and he -"

"Professor McGonagall deemed it suitable to directly interfere with an official inquiry of the gamekeeper," Umbridge replied stiffly. "Naturally, she had to be restrained. It's only good will that keeps me from firing her here on the spot!"

Severus barely managed to contain his enraged snarl. "Headmistress," he began through clenched teeth, "it seems the professor may be in need of medical assistance -"

"Oh, come now, I'm sure she'll bounce back right enough." The look on her face harshly belied this sentiment. Dismissing the notion with an airy wave of her hand, she beckoned her assistants and once more turned her step in the direction of the castle.

Flitwick sputtered in protest, his voice high and shrill. "But Dolores, surely you don't - you wouldn't just _leave_ her here like this, would you?"

Pausing mid-stride, Dolores Umbridge glanced back over her shoulder, a nasty smile playing on her ugly, toad-like features. "Why Filius," she simpered, "perish the thought!" And with a short barking laugh, the four Heads of House were left to be consumed by the night.

Holding Minerva's wrist firmly in hand, Severus gazed up despairingly. The moon had vanished behind the castle turrets, but the stars were out in abundance, all winking cheekily and appearing to laugh at him. Fog was beginning to creep its way into his mind again; he was shaking, his throat was constricting, and breath would not come. How could this have happened? All as he had stood by and watched like a fool. And why were actions failing him now, with this particular woman, when it mattered the most?

He was ripped from his sullen thoughts by the sudden stillness beneath his fingers. Cursing, it took a moments' search to find her pulse again, more erratic and weaker than before. "Hold on," he murmured, so quietly he wasn't even sure if he'd spoken the words aloud. "Hold on, I won't let you go." Smoothing a loose strand of hair away from her ashen, dirt-streaked face, Severus slid his arms beneath her body and struggled to his feet.

With arms hanging askew and head tipped eerily backward, she was dead weight, and he needed a brief moment to steady himself. The moisture from the damp earth had soaked into her clothing, and he found himself wondering at the fact that she, who had always radiated the searing fire of her House, could now feel so cold and damp.

"I'm taking her to St. Mungo's," he rasped out. His voice was coarse and insistent, and sounded very unlike his own. He glanced down and watched Minerva's chest rise and fall with each shallow breath. Who knew how much damage had already been done with this wasted expanse of time? Holding her tightly to him, he glared at his associates. "Go inside. I'll send word if I'm not back by morning."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus waits for Minerva to wake at St. Mungo's.

"Severus? Severus!"

Drifting upward through heavy layers of uneasy sleep, the professor's eyes flew open and he gazed about at his surroundings in confusion. It took him a moment to register the fact that he was in the waiting room at St. Mungo's, and another to realize it had been Emmeline Vance incessantly attempting to shake him out of his slumber.

Stifling a yawn and batting her away, he rubbed a hand over his haggard face; as he did so, his sleep-clouded eyes stumbled across a patch of bright sunlight spilling into the dreary room through a partially open window. Jerking awake, Severus sat bolt upright in the uncomfortable chair, his stiff muscles screaming in protest.

It did not matter that he hadn't been given orders to stand guard over the Deputy Headmistress. She was his colleague and co-conspirator, his friend and rival, his ally and confidante. She was _his_ ; he would entrust the responsibility of protecting her to no one but himself. And yet he had failed her a second time that night in succumbing to the human weakness that was sleep. She was a crucial member of the Order, Dumbledore's right hand, and so much more - any number of dangers could have befallen her on his neglectful watch.

Shoving lanky, disarrayed strands of hair out of his face, he agitatedly asked "How long have I been out?"

 _Not long enough, Merlin knows_ , Emmeline thought, standing a few paces away with hands on hips and shrewdly surveying him. Dark circles beneath his weary eyes stood out in shocking contrast against the pale skin of his gaunt face, and his clothing appeared wrinkled and sullied. This was not by any means the omniscient inferno that inspired fear in the hearts of school children; this was rather a mere mortal sat before her, a shade of that formidable presence.

"Emmeline! How long?" glaring intently up at the lofty witch.

Having just awoken, he had not yet been able to bury the myriad of emotions he was experiencing beneath his normal icy exterior, and Emmeline realized with a twinge of something akin to sympathy that the events of the past night must have truly unnerved him. It was because of this that she answered in a tone lacking her usual haughtiness. "You were already out when I got here a little over three hours ago. But it's early still," she added quickly. Like many members of the Order, she knew all too well of the professor's range of moods, and was in no mood to risk the venomous bite of the serpent so early in the day.

Exhausted regardless of the sleep, Severus found that he was in no state to come up with an acerbic response, and suited himself instead to nodding before he turned his face away towards the window. Through the drab taupe curtains, he was able to catch a glimpse of shining blue sky and hear the soft melody of birds singing. How was it possible for it to be so perfect on the exterior, when it felt everything within was crumbling apart?

"How is she?"

Though Emmeline had expected the question, she had yet to decide how to put the answer into words. Gnawing at the corner of her lip, she came forward slowly and settled into a chair beside him, suddenly highly intent on studying her nails. Her answer was slow and deliberate. "Severus, she's ... she's in a bad way."

Leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees, Severus cradled his head in his hands and slid his eyes closed. "How bad?" came the pained, muffled voice when he finally spoke.

She considered giving Severus the least amount of information necessary, but knew he'd rather hear everything, no matter how bad. "Apparently the stunners reacted when they collided with one another. She was badly burned and had heavy internal bleeding, some broken bones and the like. Twice before dawn she went into cardiac arrest. For a while they ... didn't know if she'd make it. The Healers say she's stable, for now at least, but they're monitoring her closely. She's been in and out of consciousness, very touch and go. They're waiting for her to come around fully before they assess for any long term damage."

He hadn't thought it was possible to feel any worse, but Emmeline's words stopped his heart. As the last remnants of sleep were torn away and reality sank in, Severus found that all of the emotions he had forcibly pushed away since he had watched the attack from the library were finally catching up with him.

Emmeline stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice the slight tremble of his shoulders or the barely concealed shuddering breaths he was taking. She'd assumed the pair were close enough, but she hadn't expected tears from this particular man. She carefully averted her gaze while he wiped the wetness from his cheeks, knowing he wouldn't thank her for bearing witness to this moment.

"Someone should have woken me."

"Oh, do stop trying to carry all the weight on your own. There was nothing you would have been able to do," she snapped before her expression softened again a moment later. She stretched a hand out to place it on his shoulder, but thought better of it. The last thing Severus Snape ever wanted was pity, and so instead she lowered her voice substantially and issued him an informal assignment. "As it is, Severus, I expect Dumbledore will be wanting a full update, and as I'm expected at work in an hour, it looks like you're up."

With a firm nod, she stood and gathered up the few things she'd had with her. "Look in on her before you go, will you?"

Listening to Emmeline Vance retreat away down the hall, Severus fisted his hands in his hair and found he could do nothing to soothe the raw, stinging ache that invaded the back of his throats or the salt burning his eyes. He felt as if he wanted to throw something just to hear it break the damnable silence - something, anything to stop the disquieting waves of anxiety from washing over him.

"Sir?"

Raising his head, he blinked unfocused eyes at the timid-looking aide, wishing for the useless thing to find something else to gawk at with her bulging eyes.

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you, but -"

"Oh, have out with it already, you twitchy little cow!" Severus snapped, a murderous scowl darkening his features.

The aide took a precautionary step backwards, looking for all the world as though she might cry. "I - I'm sorry, sir. It's just that ... Professor McGonagall appears to be coming around, and the nurse thought -"

Whatever the nurse thought, Severus didn't give her time to say. Minerva was waking, and that was all that mattered at the moment. He was on his feet in an instant and hurrying down the hall before the aide even had time to process his movement.

Slowing his pace as he neared her room, the troubled professor of Potions straightened his clothing and ran a hand again over his face. There was a hint of stubble, but there was no help for that now. Grasping the doorknob, he took a deep breath and rearranged his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression. It wouldn't do to enter the sickroom of the Deputy Headmistress appearing fretful or distraught - it would give her grounds to needle him for months on end.

He opened the door and immediately stopped dead in his tracks. Breath hitching in his throat, he had to reach out and steady himself against the doorframe. He thought she'd be awake and had intended to be sarcastic, to act as though little was amiss. He wanted so desperately to pretend that Minerva had landed herself in a minor situation that he'd be ribbing her about in the staff room in a few days, but despite Emmeline's advanced warning, he'd been in no way prepared.

Minerva lay propped at a thirty degree angle, looking frailer than he'd ever seen amid a sea of standard hospital-issue linen. Her dark hair had come mostly undone from the tight bun she insisted on imprisoning it in, and aside from being tangled and matted across the pillow, it was the only splash of color present throughout the stark white of the bedsheets. It was this, her pallor, that concerned him most. In Severus' opinion, she was far too pale for comfort. It never bode well to look as though Death himself had come to wash away all traces of life.

Edging into the room and closing the door silently behind him, Severus realized with misgiving that it was not nearly as quiet here as it had been in the waiting room. Various implements were scattered about the bedside, all whirring and puffing and occasionally hissing as they hovered around her.

Lines of concern marring his forehead, the Head of House glanced about, shadowed eyes quickly taking in the rest of the room, before he stepped hesitantly to her bedside and sank into the proffered chair beside it. Try as he might, he could not dispel the heaviness that was nesting inside him. Foolishly, he tried to force himself to believe that his anxiety was merely a byproduct of an ages-old mistrust of medical institutions, but even he knew that when it came down to the very heart of the matter, _she_ was entirely to blame for his current state.

Despite their House rivalry, their disagreements, and their frequent shouting matches, she had broken through his walls and become more than a colleague. 'Friend' was too quaint a word; they shared something closer than that, an understanding that ran deep, and therefore made her an important fixture in his life. Under the most normal of circumstances, he selfishly would not have wanted to have his life disrupted for any amount of time. Now, however, there was more to it than that. Although he did not care to admit it, particularly to himself, watching his Deputy Headmistress taunt the fates and defy death as she had done more than disrupted his life.

Just seeing this woman, so strong and unerring, exposed to the consequences of human peril set his stomach churning and mind reeling. When it seemed certain that she'd surely perish, he had ached as though a part of him had suddenly and painfully been torn away. And had the unthinkable occurred, where would it have left them (left _him_?), simply because she'd had to be so noble and self-sacrificing, so Gryffindor ... and so very Minerva.

Pushing aside his dark thought, he glared down at her for a moment, as though she might somehow feel his stony stare and decide to rise, perhaps ready with a fresh barb or rebuke. She did not do so, but Severus allowed his eyes to linger, to drink in all that which he had somehow never before taken the time to notice. When, for instance, had her hair, dark as the shadows that had danced about them the night before, begun to streak faintly here and there with gray? When had those delicate lines begun to stem and deepen about her eyes and mouth? And when had she found the time to become so painfully thin and brittle, to allow the soft curve of her cheek to be overtaken by such garish angularity?

Feeling his face begin to crumble, he dropped his gaze to his lap, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. He was shamed - shamed that he, always so careful to observe even the minutest of details, could have ignored the strain, the toll that life was exacting on the one nearest to him. But worse still was the shock of knowing how truly susceptible she was. Minerva McGonagall, a sturdy pillar on which to lean, was no more infallible than the rest of them. Her presence was no more assured of than that of any of their number.

It was the gentle sigh that first broke Severus' despondent reverie. His head snapped up, red-rimmed eyes searching for signs of consciousness, and was not long to wait. Breath released in a rush from his lungs at the sight of her eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. He waited on the brink of his seat, palms resting on the edge of her bedside, as she stirred, her eyes flickering. And as they slowly, slowly fluttered open, he felt the waves of relief surge over him.

"Minerva?"

Recognition passed through her clouded eyes at the sound of his all too familiar voice, and she turned her head on its pillow so that her gaze fell upon him. "Severus, what -" Even as her bloodless lips began to form the question, she blanched, and the politely befuddled look slid from her face.

Gasping, a hand shot across the bedsheets to curl about one of his in a surprisingly strong grip. "The children, Severus! Has anything happened to them? Are they - oh, _oh_! Hagrid! Did she - is he -" Shooting a frenzied glance about the room, she began to push at her coverings, struggling to pull herself upright. Immediately, the contraption closest let loose a burst of red steam and began to emit a shrill, piercing whistle.

"They're fine, Minerva! They're all fine!" Some reclusive piece of his mind marveled at her constant ability to put the students ahead of all else, but the fleeting thought was shoved hastily aside as the discordant screeches filled the room. His short burst of solace washing away in alarm, he vaulted from his chair with such haste that it was sent skidding backward several feet against the tiled floor. Laying his free hand on her shoulder, he gently nudged her back down and seated himself beside her.

"Calm now," he demanded. " _Calm_. The students are all perfectly fine. As is Hagrid," he added as she opened her mouth to speak. Raising a brow, he regarded the slight flush coloring her skin and could only hope it was a good thing. "I don't think you quite understand the predicament you've landed yourself in. We wouldn't want you to fall back into a relapse ... mainly because I, for one, have neither the luxury nor the time to sit about on tenterhooks inquiring about your health."

Minerva tipped her head back and scowled up at the ceiling. "You really are the most contemptible man I know. You're only sore because you know that wretched old toad will have you covering some of my classes."

"Well, nearly dying really was a very selfish thing for you to do. Especially when there's already been precious little of you to go around." Frowning, Severus carefully surveyed his colleague once more. Having already viewed the visible byproducts of her efforts, it became painfully clear just how thinly she had been spreading herself, and he wondered what other secret tasks Dumbledore might have set her to aside from guarding Hogwarts in his absence. He supposed a lesser witch - or wizard, for that matter - would have crumbled beneath the strain long before.

Suddenly aware of her hand still resting firmly in his own, he lifted his face and found her eyes locked sternly on him. "You could have left me to Poppy. You needn't have taken it upon yourself to become the guardian of my welfare. There were no orders issued that you jeopardize your position to bring me here."

"And how do you know it was me?" he asked roughly, pulling his hand free and getting abruptly to his feet. Standing uncomfortably beside her sickbed, he became all too aware of her scrutinous observation of his person, too aware of the cogs spinning in her head as she took in his unshaven face, his lack of outer robes, and the wrinkled white shirt that had somehow managed to become untucked on one side.

"Who else, Severus? Who else would have held such high regard for my well-being?" With a sigh of exasperation, Minerva shook her head and blinked her eyelids closed. It was evident that, even after so short a period of time, she was growing weary. "Who else would have cared as much?"

Fists unclenching and shoulders slumping slightly, Severus turned away, set off balance by her simple musings. Finally sinking once more into the chair, he reached out to gently smooth back a strand of her hair, and quietly responded. "I didn't want to see anything more happen to you." That much, at least, he could easily admit. That much he knew.

Toying with the hem of her thin coverlet, he allowed the silence that followed his admittance to chase away the discomfort. Several minutes when by before her hushed voice broke the lull.

"I want to thank you -"

He cut her off with a sharp, dismissive wave of his hand. "There is no need."

Once more the silence fell, stretching between them for so long that Severus became uncertain as to whether or not Minerva was still awake. Regardless, the need to say something more hung in the air, and he felt that if he did not act swiftly the swelling in his chest would prevent him from ever doing so.

"Minerva?" he began tentatively. "I don't know what ... that is to say, should something have happened -" Cursing himself mentally for allowing proper speech to flee him now, he cleared his throat and opened his mouth to try again, the ache more prevalent than ever.

But it was she, this time, to cut him off. Lids sliding wearily open, she regarded him for an instant with her fatigued green stare, the corners of her mouth twitching upward into the softest of smiles. He was dazzled.

"Come now, Severus," she finally sighed, her eyes slipping closed once more. "I don't think I could bear to see you break down and feel like a human being."

So saying, she reached out and gently brushed her knuckles across the back of his hand. With a single nod of understanding, he entwined his fingers with hers and, boldly placing a soft kiss inside her palm, he felt again her radiant warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 to follow shortly.


End file.
